Shape-Shifter
by Emmy22
Summary: Liz is a normal school girl, until she is forced to move towns as an orphan. In a serious turn of events, she finds herself trapped in a Shadowhunter world with no way out. Her only chance of surviving is by adapting and learning in this new world.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 – A New Life**

The carriage bumped up and down, precariously riding over protruding rocks, trailing behind the lead of two horses. They were Friesian horses, their manes shiny and polished, trotting evenly, almost as if they were mechanical robots. Liz stared out of the window, her eyes fixated on the row of houses which seemed to span forever. All around her were large plains of grass, tall and unmown, reaching out into the sky like a tangled mess of fingers.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in as the carriage took a steep turn, sending the wheels rocking off balance. The carriage swerved dangerously, one wheel lodged onto a huge rock, another stuck into the mud rut. The horses neighed to a stop, their heads tossing around reluctantly, tails swishing away the flies in the dizzy summer heat. A huge sigh resonated through the carriage, as the driver unceremoniously jumped out, splattering mud all over the golden doors. Liz pushed it open, sliding quickly off onto the gravel road, eyes fixed in contemplating disgust at the rock which had held the wheel captive.

The driver muttered something under his breath, and Liz could faintly make out curse words. "It's not good. We'll have to walk to town. We'll get someone up here later on." He gestured to Liz, and she looked at the horses doubtingly. They were now attempting to free themselves, trotting desperately in the mud, flies clustering around them in swarming heaps. "Let's go." The man's voice was harsh and firm, with some tone to it that made Liz shiver. He grabbed her savagely by the hand, holding her tiny wrist in his unrelenting grip, and led her over the mud patch.

Liz turned one last time to glance back at the struggling horses. A glimpse of silver flashed across the horses' skin, and for a moment, shiny, hard metal showed beneath the skin. Then, it was gone, replaced by the dark colour of the horses' coat. Liz shook her head, sure that the hallucination was just a cause of the dizzy heat. She stumbled after the man, vision blurred and eyes squinted against the sun's glare.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Turning Tables**

When Liz woke, the dazy heat was gone. A light breeze whistled between the bars of the windows, swirling lazily around through the room. Liz lifted her head, reluctantly sitting up in the couch on which she was lying. There were two doors, one on either side of the room, both slightly ajar. Around her were cardboard boxes scattered across the floor, piled on top of each other carelessly. Next to her was a small table, with an uncapped pen and some sheets of crumpled paper. A sudden streak of panic raced through her – where was she?

As she was about to explore her surroundings, the door to the left of the room creaked open. And nothing was there. A chill raced through her, but her body was frozen on the couch. Slowly but surely, she reached for the pen, her hands trembling in the cold air. It was a feeble weapon, but it provided her with a little jolt of reassurance. Another creak agonisingly cut through the air. Her eyes widened as the door to the right opened slowly, revealing the dark black behind.

"Who's there?" Her voice came out in a mumbled gasp. In a quick movement, she stood up on the couch, pen held in front of her like a weapon. A brief scene flashed to mind, as she recalled the same pose she had watched an actor perform on a TV show. At home. Home. The word was so foreign now, devoid of meaning. It used to bring emotions flooding back to her – emotions of happiness and joy. It used to bring the smell of freshly baked apple pies and the Thanksgiving turkey around a crackling fireplace. The laughter which filled the air and the sound of the TV playing through the night. Now, it brought fear, anxiety and pain.

In a whirlwind, her world had been capsized. It started with a simple "be back soon". It had been a few months ago, when her mother had told her she was going to get a quick checkup at the doctors. It turned into a "struggle". It had been a few weeks ago, when the doctor had visited her house, informing her that her mother was critically ill. And then came the painful "bye". It had been a few days ago, when her mother collapsed during dinner – the whirl of ambulance sirens, the panicked faces of neighbours, and then the long silence.

A tear sprung to her eye, but she blinked it away, pointing her pen at the left door and then the right, as if brandishing a sword. "Who's there?" She repeated the phrase slowly, deliberately, as if cautioning the darkness to reply.

A reply came soon enough.


End file.
